


We Were Making Cookies

by elzierav



Series: All the Help, Ever, Always [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom James Ironwood, Cookies!, Established Lucky Ironqrow, Kinda, M/M, Making Out, OT4, Open Relationships, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Qrow and Tai are married, Shameless Smut, Smut, so much making out, wow so many ship tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzierav/pseuds/elzierav
Summary: Few things still faze Qrow, these days.One of those things, however, includes pushing the kitchen door open, ready to offer baking assistance, only to find Tai undressing James on the countertop.“I thought you were making cookies,” the shapeshifter groans in disbelief.“We were making cookies,” the General starts.“But your new boyfriend got a kink in his back from stirring the dough, and he wanted me to look into it,” the blonde finishes. “Turns out, that’s not the only kink he has.”
Relationships: Clover Ebi/James Ironwood, Clover Ebi/Taiyang Xiao Long, James Ironwood/Taiyang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi/James Ironwood/Taiyang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen/Taiyang Xiao Long
Series: All the Help, Ever, Always [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838785
Comments: 18
Kudos: 31





	We Were Making Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: basically just smut between four older men, with a tiny bit of fluff at the end. Turn around and leave if it's not your thing, big hugs, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> This fits in the continuity of my other (yay long) fic, All The Help We Can Get, around chapters 28-29, but can be read independently. You don’t have to have read Help to understand this, and you don’t need to read this to understand what will happen in those chapters of Help. It’s just a little spicy (I hope) extra that my brain spewed out because I love these boys so much. First time writing smut between THIS MANY people, unsurprisingly ehehe, so I hope you enjoy :)

Few things still faze Qrow, these days.

Of course the kids insisted on playing video games until it was time for their mission, since clearing out Grimm remains a primary concern even after Salem’s defeat. Of course they still entertained the fickle belief they can beat their favourite uncle at video games. Of course they got utterly annihilated, the brats got some good laughs out of it, and their dearest birdman got some soft pillows thrown at his face. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Of course James’s baking isn’t going as well as planned. Throughout decades of knowing each other Qrow has never seen James make anything but sandwiches, omelettes, and the occasional scrambled eggs whenever he felt unusually original. Even with assistance, Qrow isn’t shocked that Ironwood would be struggling, such that the distinct lack of the delicious scent of cookies wafting out of the kitchen doesn’t come as much of a surprise. 

Of course Tai said he was there to help, but Tai was never the best baker out of team STRQ. The twins always had decent talents in the kitchen and could make edible foods out of anything, with the survival skills they acquired with the tribe. And Summer… well. Summer. 

After all that happened, these days, few things can still faze Qrow.

One of those things, however, includes pushing the kitchen door open, ready to offer baking assistance, only to find Tai undressing James on the countertop. 

“I thought you were making cookies,” the shapeshifter groans in disbelief. 

“We _were_ making cookies,” the General starts. 

“But your new boyfriend got a kink in his back from stirring the dough, and he wanted me to look into it,” the blonde finishes. “Turns out, that’s not the only kink he has.”

“Tai, you’re insufferable,” his previous teammate utters, too distracted by the sight of Jimmy’s discarded jacket lying crumpled against the flour-covered counter, white against white, revealing expanses of alluringly alabaster chest on one side and sleek, silvery steel on the other.

Qrow feels himself start drooling, and it’s not even because of the smell of cookies. 

“I have to say, however,” the headmaster comments, “that your _husband_ isn’t half bad at giving massages.”

“Now you know how I survived all these years despite my hopeless back posture,” Qrow snaps back, noticing a pinch of flour dusting the crook of James’s mechanical shoulder, highlighting the stunning way gentle curves meld into deadly sharp angles until…

“Tai. That’s disgusting. Stop licking the raw flour.”

Too late. Qrow’s husband’s tongue is running across the metal, flicking playfully as it sweeps off the white powder, and the ministrations aren’t leaving the General indifferent judging from the heat rising at his cheeks. 

“But… when you eat baguette there is raw flour on the outside, and you can still eat that, right?” the blonde Huntsman protests. 

Qrow really, really doesn’t need to conjure the image of baguette in his mind right now. Great, just great, now newfound warmth and tightness just started to tug at his underpants.

“You keep licking all my stuff, baby bird,” Tai continues, “so it’s only fair if I get to lick your boyfriend now.”

“I didn’t you were married, Qrow,” James manages to moan, melting into the embrace of strong, tan arms. 

“What do you think those rings are for? Attracting corvids’ attention?” Qrow motions to the fingers of his hand. “And no, Jimmy, your fake proposal to me in front of Salem doesn’t count.”

“Then… let me make it count,” Ironwood commands, reaching for Qrow’s wrist with an iron grip to bring the shifter’s fingers to his lips. 

The scythe-wielder’s breath hitches when the General’s deft tongue laps at the tip of his calloused digits, before all of Qrow’s ring finger finds itself shoved all the way down Jimmy’s mouth. It’s hot inside, by the gods it’s hot inside and raw _desire_ is pooling within Qrow’s heart. It’s hot and soft and sinfully wet and the briefest clink of hard teeth against metal sends his heartbeat unravelling as the Atlesian rips off one of the shiny rings into his mouth. 

Qrow suspects at some point James must have spat the wedding ring out, but he’s not too sure, because the next second the General is grabbing a fistful of his shirt and capturing the shapeshifter’s mouth with his, and everything else ceases to matter. There’s a clash of teeth at first, but soon nothing exists but need, pure need, and as their tongues touch languidly, again and again, James’s lips are wordlessly pleading against the shapeshifter’s, revering him, adoring him, worshipping him with each open-mouthed kiss, and only hoping to be adored back. And all Qrow can do, wants to do, ever wants and needs to do, is to give his boyfriend the adoration he deserves and needs, so badly needs.

The General’s job is hard and lonely, he just needs to be loved and pampered in his down time, and Qrow can only be glad that James is finally opening up and letting himself be pampered. And that of course Tai has caught onto that, for right now the birdman is very aware of the blonde’s hands rummaging between their bodies, mapping the tight space between Qrow’s chest and Jimmy’s. 

The loss of contact is only a brief warning before Tai’s muscular arms reach around Ironwood to pick up his smaller husband and sit him squarely across the counter. Qrow gasps softly against James’s lips, but the General won’t break the kiss for that little, instead pushing the shifter’s parted lips open with his tongue to gain deeper access. Burying his long fingers into the thick, lush dark beard, Qrow pulls Jimmy even closer, ravishing his mouth with increasingly wanton kisses, while Tai apparently thought it would be a good idea to toy with Ironwood’s nipples. 

“Oh look, I picked up a chick,” Taiyang teases, “in the sense of a baby bird...” but no one pays attention, the others’ mouths being way too occupied to respond to the lame pun.

There is some sensitivity on the prosthetic side, but it’s regretfully nothing compared to the real experience of flesh against flesh. 

The human side, however, is very, _very_ responsive.

Qrow allows himself a grin as James all but moans into their kiss, and he wonders if he’s ever heard anything so lustful, and simultaneously so adorable. Because he knows that deep down, despite being the commanding General of the largest, most technologically advanced armada in the world, little Jimmy is just a tired man begging for attention and affection. And he knows Tai knows too, because his tawny fingers are already working on that complex mess that is Ironwood’s tangle of belts.

“You’re not opposed to sharing, right?” the blonde asks no one in particular before letting Jimmy’s pants fall undone.

“No!” the two others growl in unison, mildly annoyed they had to break their kiss just to confirm that. 

There’s still a trail of saliva connecting their lips, all translucent and shiny, and it doesn’t fail to attract the birdman’s eyes. Immediately, Qrow’s tongue tip darts out to lick the spit off of Jimmy’s lips, tracing the full contour of the General’s mouth and applying just the right amount of pressure to earn a squirming moan. 

“Wow,” Taiyang echoes as he pulls down the headmaster’s pants and underwear. “Is your butt self-lubricating?”

“Yes,” both James and Qrow manage to say at the same time, and the shapeshifter can relate to his husband’s sense of pure awe, he remembers the first time he saw that perfect behind, that perfectly symmetrical butt, that sculptural flesh cheek that begs to be revered and ruined so flawlessly mirrored by its spotless, smooth steel counterpart. 

“Birdie, while I get him ready can you deal with...”

“Shhh,” the shapeshifter snaps. “Someone has to make sure you shut up sometimes.”

And to match his words with actions, Qrow reaches over Ironwood’s shoulder to kiss Tai’s smug smile away. The taste of the blonde’s lips, even the shape of his teeth, every bump and every irregularity feels familiar to the scythe-wielder’s tongue. It’s a cavern he’s cartographied years ago, again and again, and yet every time is just as delectable as the first, and it feels like home, and Qrow will never get tired of that, will never get bored of be explored, prodded, unravelled by an agile tongue that knows his needs only too well, will never stop wanting more, always more. 

“Fuck...” Qrow exhales.

“Little bird, that’s exactly what I’m -”

“Clover,” the shifter finishes. “We should tell him.”

The General pulls out his Scroll, but Tai quickly snatches it away to type: _Baby bird and his dragon husband fucking my brains out, wanna join?_

“Tai, that is just _not_ something you can send someone,” Qrow comments.

“Even your other birdfriend… I mean, boyfriend?”

“Hey,” a certain lucky Specialist calls out from the doorway, somehow fortunately finding himself at the right time and place. 

Qrow’s heart misses a beat at that single, suave syllable spilling from Clover’s lips, as vermillion eyes search for teal irises amongst the younger man’s quickly blushing face. Tightness is already tugging at Clover’s entirely too tight, too white pants, and the shapeshifter’s mind can only silently bless whoever designed those damn uniforms. But Operative Ebi is a man of action, and without further ado he springs into action, joining his two boyfriends and Tai against the counter. 

“May I?” the brunette prompts shakily, considering Ironwood’s hard metal length twitching and begging for attention as Tai kneads both the General’s butt cheeks, expertly eliciting the most delectable moans from Jimmy’s lips that can only stutter and murmur in agreement. 

Clover’s intentions are clear, as his strong hands grasps James’s member with surprising delicateness, carefully caressing the smooth, shiny steel that seems to thrum with pleasure under his ministrations under Qrow’s watchful eye. Trailing hot, sloppy kisses down the arch of Ironwood’s neck, the scythe-wielder licks down the line where skin meets metal, adoring every scar, every ridge, every nook and cranny, every sharp, erratic breath James draws in response, until Qrow’s lips meet Clover’s hand hard at work on the General’s metal cock. 

The shapeshifter’s lips drop a feather-light peck on that bulging vein on the brunette’s forearm. The angle is awkward from Qrow’s perch on the counter, and he has to bend his back all the way down… but it’s worth it. Totally worth it. Because his younger boyfriend acknowledges the effort, teal eyes blinking with awe, admiration, love, so much _love_ it almost hurts and Qrow’s heart wants to explode in his ribcage like a bird yearning to fly free. It almost hurts, but it’s worth it, and Clover notices, promptly rewarding his ‘birdfriend’ with a kiss on the lips. 

Pressing a large palm to the shifter’s chest, Clover pushes Qrow back upright on the counter, the contact between their mouths never breaking as they move. As the scythe-wielder’s hands grip the Operative’s shoulder like a lifeline, a boulder amidst the storm. As the younger man’s hands travel down the pale, lithe torso towards Qrow’s pants.

“You’re making progress, lucky charm,” the shapeshifter drawls in approval, staring at Clover through lush black lashes. “You remembered you have two hands...”

His words are reduced into a moaning mess as the soldier’s fingers work in perfect sync on Qrow’s erection and Jimmy’s. 

“I wish I had more hands,” the brunette regrets, eyeing Tai bashfully while his own erection twitches within the fabric of his pants.

The pace is too careful at first, like he’s contemplating how to mold flesh on one side and metal on the other to his own liking, to his lovers’ own liking. Their scars are glaring at him, a reminder they’ve both survived through so much, not for Clover to hurt them or break them now. James’s scars are a mess of sinewy flesh sharply contrasting with the straight line of steel plating on his chest like waves coming to die on the seashore. Qrow’s scars are pale, haphazard, mapping his skin like constellations in the night. 

Before the shapeshifter can groan in frustration at the deliberately slow pace, the Specialist leans in for another kiss, capturing any complaints with his skillful lips. Clover tastes like crestfallen snow under the sunrise, like new mornings and promises, and Qrow had no idea how that tasted before he met Clover. Running a deft tongue onto the soldier’s perfect pearly whites, Qrow can sense the brunette’s breath hitch when James nibbles at Clover’s neck from behind, his thick beard playing at the short, fluffy hair against the back of the younger man’s head to draw some small giggles the shapeshifter gladly eats up.

Then a lot happens at once and Qrow’s senses are ablaze, remembering the four of them are really at it and not fully realising this is happening, this is really happening, this is really, really happening. Clover breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp as James bites down onto his shoulder, holding the younger military man like his life depends on it while Tai’s fingers are working miracles up his half-robotic ass. Qrow chuckles to himself, knowing full well how skillful his husband’s hands are… it’s not for nothing that those hands were some of the deadliest weapons, if not the _deadliest_ , in all of team STRQ. 

Jimmy’s teeth are gonna leave a mark, but Clover knows he’s gonna be lucky, he’s gonna be able to tie his arm sash there or something because gods forbid he ever wears sleeves. Shrugging the pain off with a drool-worthy roll of those sculptural shoulders, the brunette understands he should pick up the pace, and… woah, does he know how to. His fists exert just the right pressure, with just enough grip, just enough gentleness to make both his boyfriends squirm, and it helps that Ironwood is erratically thrusting into the brunette’s hand as more of Tai’s fingers toy with his entrance, setting fireworks alight within him. It helps that Qrow stares with heavy-lidded eyes at the General coming undone, utterly undone under everyone’s attention and care he so desperately deserves and needs, has always needed and deserved. 

James needed this a thousand times, and then some. James deserved this a million times, nothing bad would ever have happened if they’d truly been here for him, to comfort and confront him, to remind him he’s loved, he isn’t alone, to save him and serve him and love him some more. Qrow knows this, and wishes he’d been there always for the General, for his boyfriend, for his lover. Apologies will never be enough, but he doesn’t give a damn. Instead, he reaches over to cup Jimmy’s face and pepper the pale skin and dark beard with a thousand kisses. Each moan from Ironwood’s lips in response to Clover’s work on his cock, to Tai’s fingers in his ass, ghosts hotly against the shapeshifter’s skin, and that’s enough to send shivers down Qrow’s spine.

The General is so responsive, so delightfully responsive. The scythe-wielder knows every time Clover tugs at his dick, that the same impulse was exerted onto James’s erection, so he expects Ironwood’s response - and it never disappoints. Every time the brunette accelerates, every time he slows down to a near stop and the world feels like it stops spinning around in space… Jimmy whimpers, whispering meaningless nothings against Qrow’s skin, against his lips before claiming them with renewed fervor, before kissing him the daylights out of him like each second might be the last. 

But then Clover pumps faster again, and it’s as though all the clocks in Remnant unwind suddenly, madly, irrevocably, and the lovers unwind with them, at the mercy of the Specialist’s too few hands. 

“Clover...” James pants, “I want you… inside me. Now.”

It sounds like a plea. It sounds like a beg. Yet an order’s an order, and the older men watch intently as Clover bites back the ‘yessir’ at the tip of his tongue and positions himself behind the General, the blonde stepping aside to accommodate him. 

“I got Jimmy ready for you,” Tai exhales, even though they all know already. “Do you want me to get you ready too while you fuck him?”

Clover pauses for a few seconds at that, aqua eyes widening like a deer’s caught in the headlights. 

“Don’t worry lucky charm,” Qrow calls out with some difficulty as James is busy lavishing the shifter’s neck with his lips, “Tai knows what he’s doing.”

“I concur,” Ironwood sighs, exhaling shakily as Tai gives his human-side butt cheek a teasing tap. 

“Then give me your best,” Clover nods to the encouragingly smiling blonde.

The Ace Op draws in a deep breath, discarding his pants like an afterthought. Unsurprisingly, his sizable length was only begging to break free, already half-hard from just watching those gorgeous three men getting each other off. As Clover takes the matter into his own palm, Tai quickly steps in to lend a literal helping hand on the captain’s weeping, twitching member. His fingers are burning hot already, and the mere thought that the same digits just mapped the inside of James’s behind is enough to send electrified tingles travelling through each and every of the brunette’s nerves. 

“Clover, anyone ever told you you’ve got a nice butt?” Tai murmurs into the crook of Clover’s neck, his voice slurred by the work of his lips on the silky, sensitive skin.

“My ma, when I was a baby apparently… oh no, that’s really awkward isn’t it?”

“Mrs. Ebi had very commendable taste,” James comments as Qrow draws him in for another kiss. 

“James, I love you, but you’re not exactly helping here...” the Operative bemoans, before a sharp tug of the blonde’s fingers onto his dick makes him forget about words and what words are even for.

Just his luck, words aren’t needed right now. Because words cannot capture the full aesthetic perfection of the specialist’s rotund behind. And suddenly, Tai understands what the buttcape is for, why its presence is necessary to protect unwitting onlookers’ eyes away from the distracting magnificence of Clover’s assets while on the field. All the blonde wants is to massage those muscular mounds, to mold them like clay within his warm palms, to press his thumbs into those sinfully sexy dimples atop each cheek and rub circles until the younger man squirms with pure pleasure and forgets everything, even forgets his own Semblance is good fortune. 

But James already growls with impatience, all but rubbing his equally shapeful ass onto Clover’s erection, and the Ace Op is only too glad to oblige, carefully lining himself up with the General’s entrance. Pressing his face against the warm metal of Jimmy’s shoulder, he listens carefully while pushing the tip of his dick inside, humming appreciatively as Ironwood gasps wantonly before arching his hips backward to allow Clover even deeper inside of him. 

“Mmm, you’re so tight, babe,” the Captain mutters, his lips never leaving the sleek steel surface of James’s backside. 

And thrusting until he’s balls deep within his commanding officer, as that mere notion is sufficient to send his brain into overdrive, Clover can appreciate the tight pressure of Ironwood’s walls against his cock, the almost overbearing pressure that only entices him further. The near-impossible pressure that sharply reminds him of just how lonely James has been until recently, because he’d preferred to shoulder the burden of power alone, the burden of his past, of his scars both physical and mental until it almost drove him insane. 

But now it’s all over, now he’s safe in the warmth of Clover’s arms for the brunette to lavish and love, and each time their hips buck together the Captain only yearns to drive James insane in other ways, to fuck him out of his own mind so he doesn’t have to worry about anything any more, so that he knows he’s cared for and loved and adored and loved. 

Clearly, Qrow’s got the same kind of idea, wrapping his endless, pallid legs around Ironwood’s waist to draw him closer to the shifter’s seated position on the counter. In other scenarios, the crimson-eyed Huntsman would have dropped onto his knees to take James into that skillful mouth of his, but that would impede the current plan of Clover fucking James into the countertop while Tai prepares to fuck Clover, which would be a shame against which they should take some… _countermeasures_. Well, they could try that some other time. 

For now, Qrow takes both himself and the General in hand while leaning in to kiss James slowly and languidly, long alabaster fingers rubbing their flesh steel erections together. Somehow, the shapeshifter’s hand pulls and pushes exactly hard enough for James to jerk back just sufficiently… and graze his prostate onto Clover’s dick, sending sparks flying through his mind as the rest of Atlas vanishes into oblivion. The Operative can tell in the way Jimmy’s shoulders suddenly shudder, in the way Ironwood’s scream spills into a muffled gasp captured by Qrow’s lips, that he’s hit the right bundle of nerves. After all, Clover’s not the luckiest man in Remnant for nothing. 

Clover’s not the luckiest man in Remnant for nothing… he’s starkly reminded as Tai pushes a tentative finger into the Ace Op’s awaiting entrance, because yes, this is really happening. The lube coating the digit is cold against the heat of Clover’s body, and somewhere at the back of his mind the Captain wonders where the blonde could have found the lube, probably in one of many pockets from his loose cargo pants, those seem awfully convenient to always come prepared for any situation. But thoughts of dad pants leave the brunette’s mind as quickly as they appeared, as Tai’s finger pushes and probes and _twists_ and stars burst into existence behind the blackness of Clover’s shut eyelids.

Tai pushes in a second finger, and within his unwinding mind Clover’s aware of a few things. His torso pressed flush against James’s defined back, against the sweaty skin, against the scalding steel. Qrow’s hand rummaging across Ironwood’s back, the strong, slender digits crawling down the space between Jimmy and Clover’s bodies, calloused and powdery as if they’re covered in flour from the counter. The Ace Op’s dick buried deep into James, who’s so delightfully effusive every time the hard member thrusts into his favourite spot. Tai’s tongue licking the shell of Clover’s ears, warm, wet, and divine. 

When the blonde inserts a third finger, Clover’s mind stops functioning, and it’s a miracle if he still even knows how to properly and thoroughly rail his commanding officer. That, and Qrow’s long, slender arm reaching for his sculptural shoulder and pulling him forward, impaling the General deeper onto the Ace Op’s erection. Clover buries his face into Jimmy’s hair at the back of his head and it’s soft, and it smells like sweat, everything smells like sweat and saliva and sex. Tai’s lips trail down the brunette’s neck and suck slowly, gracing the skin with reassuring kisses just as he prepares to enter the younger man’s ass.

Tai’s length may not be as considerable as Clover’s, but what he lacks in that department he makes it up in width, substantial width that insistently pushes the younger soldier’s butt cheeks apart. The Operative lets out a throaty moan against the nape of James’s neck, and he knows he’s not gonna last long. Qrow’s husband thrusts into him once, twice, thrice, and manages to find his prostate, just his luck. Everything’s too much, too loud, too silent, too sensitive, the blonde’s trimmed fingernails are softly digging into Clover’s hipbone and his hot mouth is still mapping the side of Clover’s jaw. 

In response, the brunette turns around and kisses Tai. The angle is impossible twisted, with Clover’s cock still buried to the hilt into Jimmy, and the kiss is but a violent collision of teeth, a clumsy brush of lips interspersed with desperate gasps for air. Air feels cold against their heated tongues, before the blonde lets out a low, hearty chuckle, his burning breath projecting onto Clover’s saliva-coated lips. Preserving the messy contact between their lips, the blonde slams himself into the Captain once again, and Clover’s pretty sure he’s never come this hard in his whole life. 

He’s very aware of his seed spilling into the General’s half-robotic butt, before he pulls out of James so Tai can turn him around and kiss him properly. Clover’s still too overwhelmed to kiss back with much fervor, bright white stars still imprinted onto the inside of his eyelids. Their lips meet with infinite gentleness, and Clover’s content basking in the warmth of Tai’s arms, breathing the same air, and easily understanding why Qrow married this man. Encouraged by the Specialist’s satisfied sigh, the blonde softly sucks at his bottom lip, causing the younger man to playfully nip Tai’s nose in retaliation. 

Tai and Clover remain a mere fraction of a second in each other’s embrace before James cums into Qrow’s fist, letting out a wordless scream of pure passion as he slumps onto the counter into the shapeshifter’s awaiting arms. And by the gods, that’s a sight to behold. His shoulders, both human and robotic, turn completely lax like a puppet whose strings have been cut, all knots and kinks from his back momentarily gone. Ironwood blinks rapidly, mesmerising cobalt irises lovingly gazing at the three other men through long black lashes contrasting with the slightly flushed pallor of his flawless skin. Deep blue eyes only flicker between Qrow, Clover, and Tai briefly before rolling back into their orbits, and as the General’s knees buckle under his weight only the shifter’s fast reflexes can catch him before he slumps to the kitchen floor.

Heaving the General’s half-robotic body in his arms, Qrow leans down for a soft, slow kiss onto James’s lips while Tai’s hand delicately tangles the headmaster’s raven hair, caressing the soft, silky strands between his calloused fingers. Soon enough, Ironwood’s eyes flutter open, and he proceeds to kiss Qrow back deeply and passionately before the shapeshifter can even think of pulling away. After seconds of frozen shock, garnet eyes slip closed as the scythe-wielder responds fervently, their tongues engaging in a relentless battle of skill and attrition until they’re both left breathless. 

Qrow needs to breathe, but he doesn’t want this to end, never wants this to ever have to end. 

Alas they eventually must part for air, and all good things must come to an end. 

“Sorry, just needed to catch my breath,” Qrow mumbles, looking away. “I’m not getting younger anytime soon.”

“So this isn’t a dream,” James replies fondly, running his metal fingers through stray strands of the shapeshifter’s feathery hair hanging over his forehead. 

Silently, the General considers Qrow, shyly nested between his arms, and Tai and Clover idly playing with Ironwood’s hair. It sure looks like a dream. But it doesn’t mean it can’t be really, really _real_. 

“Gentlemen,” the captain suggests with his best attempt at professionalism, which comes out rather adorably flustered. “I think it would be best to move this to the bedroom.”

Fortunately, Ironwood’s bed is large enough to accomodate all of them. Not by any large margin, but they can all fit in if they huddle up, which is definitely not for the worst. Long seconds elapse as they lay entangled over the sheets, exchanging gentle touches and soft kisses in the tender silence. Judging by the smile on his face, Clover seems content spooning an increasingly sleepy Ironwood while Taiyang scoots over to his husband’s side, entwining his fingers with Qrow’s. 

People say the lines of one’s palm trace the paths to one’s lives, their fates and destinies, their misfortunes and fortunes. Where they came from, where they’re going. As Qrow and Tai lay there, their palms pressed together firmly enough to sense the familiar lines of each other’s hands, they know there’s nowhere else they’d rather be, nowhere else they’d rather go. 

With his free hand, the blonde brushes a tawny thumb against the shapeshifter’s lip, teasing his cupid’s bow before gracing it with a feather-light kiss. He feels his baby bird smile fleetingly against his lips, and that means the world to him. He’d missed that smile more than he can ever realise. 

Just Qrow’s luck, that’s the time Jimmy’s Scroll chooses to start buzzing. 

“Don’t even think about it,” the shifter sneers toward the General as the latter reaches for the device. “It’s not like you’re in condition to properly sit, let alone work.”

James opens his mouth - and closes it wordlessly, finding nothing to retort. 

“Thought as much,” Qrow smirks. “The Council, Glyn, the Ice Queen, or whoever, they can wait. You need to rest, the future of Atlas quite literally depends on you getting enough rest. And if you try to work again, I swear I will sit on you so you can’t go anywhere.”

“You’re not the heaviest person, Qrow,” the headmaster protests patiently. “I can easily lift you off me.”

“True. I’m no heavyweight, but I’m a distracting weight. And you love it when I’m lying on top of you.”

And to prove his point, he props himself up and shifts his body so that he can lie on his stomach atop the General’s chest. While James grumbles in defeat laced with contentment, Qrow’s back arches up gracefully as he rests his elbows against the bed to support his weight, in a way that highlights his lovely bubble butt and sends Clover practically drooling. Teal eyes intently tracing each curve of the lithe man’s body, the younger soldier reaches out a hand to stroke the tip of the shapeshifter’s shoulder blade, the tip that arches up like a bird’s wing, all the way down the subtle definition of his pale back, around his bouncy butt cheek and seemingly mile-long leg, marvelling at the contact of strong thighs and firm calves under the surface of soft pearly skin. 

The Ace Op pauses for an instant as he catches Tai’s gaze, but the blonde only inches closer to mirror Clover’s caresses, both of them kneading symmetric circles down Qrow’s back before meticulously massaging his shapeful behind. 

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but you’re not exactly helping...” the shifter groans, bringing the General back to reality and to the sharp realisation of Qrow’s erection poking against his hip bone.

“Qrow, let me...” Ironwood stammers, regretting not to have sensed and satisfied that… matter earlier. 

“With all due respect, General,” Tai teases, “you look like you could use some rest while I tend to my husband’s needs.”

“Poor birdie, so busy taking care of others that he forgets himself,” Clover adds with a glint of earnest admiration in his aqua eyes. “We’ll take care of you, Qrow. We’re here for you.”

Qrow’s heart somersaults again in his chest as Tai flips him over, taking his weeping cock into one strong, tan fist. The blonde’s pink tongue darts out from between his lips and laps at the tip, before licking all the way down to the base, trailing a single line of hot saliva. The shapeshifter throws his head back as he lets out a string of obscene noises while his husband takes him into his sinfully hot mouth. Sensing lustful crimson eyes boring into him, Clover gladly leans in to capture the shifter’s swears with his lips, kissing him senseless while pinning both Qrow’s wrists into the mattress above their heads with a single, inescapable hand. 

The shapeshifter’s vermillion eyes are begging for more of that ineluctable pressure, edging closer and closer to his climax, and Clover regrets the lack of belts or clothes on the ground that weren’t abandoned in the kitchen to bind Qrow’s hands together. There’s the cable from the bedside lamp, but that literally screams electric hazard, especially with the scythe-wielder’s Semblance around, so the Ace Op must settle with making an excited mental note for another time.

The Specialist hears Qrow groan against his lips when James joins into the fray, metal and flesh thumbs pinching and squeezing the shapeshifter’s nipple until they turn swollen and hard, until he finds himself teetering impossibly close to the edge. Down the other side of the bed, Tai’s blonde head bobs up and down his husband’s shaft, taking in his length, his thickness, his curvature, his everything. Because of course nothing is straight about the shifter, even the pole of his weapon and blade curve on command, and his husband knows that better than anyone as he deep-throats Qrow’s _other_ arching blade, the scalding wetness of his mouth sending the shapeshifter’s heartbeat at an erratic frenzy.

The shapeshifter squeezes his eyes shut, and the world turns white, white as molten iron heated to the utmost point. His heart’s soaring, his heart is plummeting and falling through the clouds, the bedsheets are clouds, the pillows are clouds. His heart beats a few beats before everything returns into focus in the aftermath of his orgasm, and then everything plummets. Literally. With a loud _crack_. A crack that leaves the bed oddly tilted, one of its wooden legs snapped definitely shorter than the three others, shorter than it was before. 

“Stupid fucking Semblance,” Qrow curses, burying his face into the nearest pillow that happens to be nested between Clover and Jimmy’s bulky biceps.

“Language,” Clover scolds teasingly as he rolls over to sling an arm around his favourite birdfriend.

Through their skin-to-skin contact, the Specialist can feel Qrow’s faint chuckle vibrate through their bodies, resonate through their bones, tug at some of his heartstrings he didn’t even know existed. They remain silent as Clover revels in that simple sound, revelling in the simple truth that the others must adore it too, adore it like they’ve never known anything more delectable in all of Remnant, cookies included. 

Eventually, the heavy duty to break the silence befalls upon James’s shoulders.

“I suppose I should answer Glynda, if we are to require her assistance with fixing the bed later,” the General declares, earning an amused shrug from Tai who stifles a laugh against Clover’s shoulder.

The blonde’s giggle distractingly tickling against his bicep, it takes a while for Clover to parse that information and raise a point, most likely embarrassing himself and earning some more chortles in the process - which absolutely wouldn’t be for the worst. 

“Who’s Glynda?”

**Author's Note:**

> Clover does know of Glynda, he’s just confused because the other boys just fucked his brains out. Some of the noodle plots like the proposal in front of Salem thing and the whole Qrow making cookies thing are plot points in All The Help We Can Get, my other fic of which this is a spin off of sorts, so if you’re interested go give that a read ;) It’s a lot of angst and fluff… or fluff and angst, I’ll let you be the judge (anyway, lots of Zwei cuddles). Please leave a comment, I love comments. Hope y’all enjoyed xx


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